


when grey turns to gold

by humanveil



Category: Marvel, X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: M/M, Post X-Men: Apocolypse, Translation Available, everything is the same except that little detail at the end, sort of platonic cuddling involved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-09 23:51:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6929422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humanveil/pseuds/humanveil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik stays.</p>
            </blockquote>





	when grey turns to gold

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [破晓时分](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7076923) by [Go_MrCactus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Go_MrCactus/pseuds/Go_MrCactus)
  * Translation into 中文 available: [东曦既驾](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7203845) by [Reginamoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reginamoon/pseuds/Reginamoon)



> [Translated into Russian. ](https://ficbook.net/readfic/5712942/14696749)
> 
>  
> 
> Cherik are together but not _together_ together, bc I'm not comfortable writing them romantic/sexual after Erik's family just died, so yeah.

They don’t get to be alone right away, the whirl of sorting the school and students out as quickly as possible halting any opportunity to talk. By the time the commotion finally settles and Charles is satisfied with the state of affairs, it’s well into the early hours of the morning. He contemplates going straight to bed, his body and mind still exhausted from Apocalypse’s activities, but he can feel the familiar buzz of Erik’s mind in the back of his own, and… well, it wouldn’t be the first time they’d stayed up to talk at this hour. Besides, if what he can feel of Erik is anything to go by, the other man needs someone to talk to.

He grabs the throw blanket next to his desk, unfolding it and covering his lap and legs, before making his way to Erik’s room. The chill against the bare skin of his skull is a new sensation, one he isn’t quite use to. He thinks, perhaps, he ought to have grabbed a beanie.

When he arrives, Erik doesn’t look surprised to see him. He merely opens the door and stares, the look on his face so familiar it makes Charles feel as if he’d been sent back in time, to some of their first nights together, all those years ago.

“Are you going to come in or are you going to stay sitting outside the door?”

A huffed laugh leaves Charles’ mouth, but he doesn’t move. “I thought perhaps we could go for a stroll. Sit down somewhere and… talk.”

“It’s five in the morning,” Erik says, voice monotone, his face contorted as if he were questioning the other man’s sanity. “And cold.”

“I’m aware,” Charles replies, head tilting towards the blanket. “I just think it may be good for us.”

“Why?”

A quiet sigh escapes Charles’ lips, and Erik’s head tilts, eyebrows raised, questioning.

“I could feel you, still can feel you. You’re upset, and it’s blaringly obvious. I thought it might help ca—”

“—lm my mind.” Erik finishes the sentence with him, half smiling, half rolling his eyes, as he says the words. He looks away from Charles as the room returns to silence, laughing a quiet laugh that escapes him through a puff of air. “Don’t tell me you’ve finally lost it, Charles.”

The telepath grins, the wide smile stretching across his entire face. “Not quite yet,” he says, pausing before continuing. “Come to the garden with me. I promise it will help.”

Erik opens his mouth to argue, only to shut it seconds after and sigh. Finally, he just says, “We’re going to need more blankets.”

*

More blankets turned into every blanket that had been in Erik’s room, which Charles had originally thought to be over the top, but was grateful for as he settled into the heap. He suppresses a shiver as the air hits his bare skin, the chill of it much more biting out in the open.

Erik watches the movement and grins, sitting down next to him, their bodies not quite close enough to touch. “Different?”

Charles hums, “I’ll get used to it.”

“Be careful, people might want to rub it for luck.”

Charles leans back, hands planted on either side of him, and laughs. “You need only ask, old friend.”

Erik doesn’t say anything, but Charles watches his smile from the corner of his eye.

It feels good to be able to joke with him again. He’s missed Erik. He’d hated himself for it, just a little bit (or a lot, at times), but a part of him had spent their years apart wanting that friendship back, if nothing more. He misses their talks, their… connection. It’s a peculiar thing, uniquely beautiful. Something he’d rather not live without.

“I suppose I could use some luck,” Erik replies. Then, “I could swear there used to be more trees.”  
  
Charles laughs, the noise loud and free in the open space. It's not really funny, he thinks, but the confused face Erik sends his way only furthers his giggles. Only when he calms down does he offer, “There was an accident. Scott… looked at it.”  
  
“Ah,” Erik tilts his head in a nod. “Interesting mutation.”

“Mmhm. Very similar to Alex’s.”

Charles can feel the immediate question in Erik’s mind, but the man stays silent for some time before finally asking, “When’s the funeral?”

“Soon. This week, if I can get it in order.”

“If I'd thought—”

Charles cuts off any further apology with a shake of his head. “I know.”

Rather than replying, Erik scoots closer to Charles, their shoulders and thighs touching. The extra body heat is welcome, and Charles finds we can't quite keep the small smile off his face.

While cold, the press of fresh air against their faces is refreshing, cleansing. The serene atmosphere calming them down almost instantly. The sky is still an array of hues of grey and blue, lit only by the moon and an odd star here and there, but Charles suspects the bright colours of a sunrise to appear any moment. A warmth settles in both their chests, enhanced further by the feeling of being wrapped tightly together.

They talk and they don’t talk; as many conversations are had said as unsaid. Erik appreciates it, the knowledge that he can talk if he wishes to, but won't be pressured into doing so. There's things he'd like to say, things he probably should say, but the words don't come. Instead, he loses himself in the beauty of nature, of the man sitting next to him. Light presses at the edges of the nearly unbearable melancholy that rests at his core, and he sees no need to ruin it with unnecessary conversation.  
  
Their eyes gaze at the sky, the colours changing as each minute passes by. They watch as greys and blues turn to purples, and then pinks, yellows and oranges. Erik grows drowsy as it happens, his head unintentionally dropping to Charles’ shoulder. Charles doesn't say anything, just shifts his position to accommodate it.

Birds chip in the background, the noise so loud and consistent it would have been annoying at any other time. Now, it simply adds to the moment. Charles watches as some of them fly from tree to tree, finding beauty in the glide of their wings.

A light snore comes from Erik, and Charles nudges him with a slight shift of his shoulder. “Don’t fall asleep on me, old friend,” he murmurs, smiling as Erik only presses further into him. “I need your help to get back inside.”

“I'll build a proper ramp later,” Erik mumbles, the words almost incomprehensible. With a sigh, he moves away from Charles to lie on his back, eyes squinting open to look up at him. “I’ll make it have patterns and everything.”

Charles’ smile widens at the words, and he falls onto his back willingly when Erik reaches for him. Shifting to make himself comfortable, he tilts his head to the side to look at the other man. “Does that mean you'll stay?”

Erik meets his gaze through the tiny crack of his eyelids. “I haven't got anywhere else to go right now, have I? They're all gone.”

“Way to make a man feel special,” Charles replies, lips twitching. Better to go for a joke, he thinks, than the undoubtedly painful conversation of who _they_ are. At least for now, anyway.

A half laugh, half sigh leaves Erik, and he moves to rest his head on Charles’ chest. “Sleep,” he tells him. “We've got a few hours before people start waking up.”

Charles hums, noncommittal, and watches as Erik drifts to sleep almost immediately. He can feel the stark difference in his mind, much calmer now than it had been before, and it settles him slightly.

He himself doesn't sleep for a while longer, choosing instead to watch as the cycle of the sky completed itself: blue, to grey, to pink, to gold, and then back to blue. Eventually, though, he gives in to the exhaustion tugging at his mind, and slips away into unconsciousness easily.

*

Later, Erik does build him a proper ramp. He recruits Jean to help, and Charles watches, the sight filling him with a unique kind of love. Erik doesn't stop there, though. He checks over the entire building to ensure its suitably built and wheelchair friendly, and Charles follows him, trying not to laugh at the displeased furrow of his brow as he finds each mistake.

“You're far too stressed about this.”

“You need to be able to get around, Charles.”

“I really can't remember the last time I was in the attic, Erik. The house is fine as it is.”

Erik tries to argue, like he always does, and Charles merely shakes his head, mumbling something about stubbornness before leaving him be. It’s almost domestic, he thinks, smiling at the children as he passes them.

*

To the surprise of many, Erik does stay.

It's almost a miracle, really. Charles had wanted him to, had hoped he would, but he hadn’t actually thought it would happen. With their history, there was no reason to believe it would.

But he does. He stays, and while Charles isn’t sure how long it will last, knows that Erik will leave sooner, rather than later, he’s willing to enjoy the man’s company while he can.

He has missed him, after all. 


End file.
